


promise me you’ll never let us go

by laikaspeaks



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/F, Pining, Scarification, implied catra/adora, very very light self-harm tw if you're sensitive to that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 15:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16746232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laikaspeaks/pseuds/laikaspeaks
Summary: Shortly after The Battle of Bright Moon Adora privately mourns her loss in a way unique to the Horde.





	promise me you’ll never let us go

“What do you have there, Adora? Oh, is it something for the victory party?”

Adora nearly jumped out of her skin and spun to see a curious, excited Glimmer bouncing in place. She only belatedly realized she was clutching the package protectively to her chest, which made Glimmer’s grin falter and Adora’s heart drop into her stomach. She was sure she used to be a better liar.

“It’s - it’s an old remedy from the Fright Zone.” Adora said, fidgeting with the cloth-wrapped bundle in her hands. “It’s good for wounds like - like - um, well you saw it.”

Glimmer tried not to look concerned and failed utterly. “...Okay. Just remember that Bow and I are totally here to help if you need us, okay?”

Adora managed a smile. She usually could where Glimmer was concerned. “Thank you, Glimmer.”

She turned on her heel and returned to her mission, deeply grateful that Glimmer didn’t question her further. The halls were all-but empty because of the early hour, other than a few servants that nodded to Adora as she passed. The cool morning light streaming through the windows gave the crystalline halls an unusually subdued feeling, which matched Adora’s mood just fine. Adora leaned against the door in relief when she finally got to her room, and hissed in pain as she was sharply reminded of her wounds. And why she needed the “remedy”. She unfolded the package on the vanity, revealing violently purple roots, a small mortar and pestle, and a bottle of fizzing green liquid.

It took longer than she expected to peel the roots, their tough rinds only just giving away under the knife she took from the kitchens. Even longer to work the roots and fluid into a fine paste that smelled unexpectedly sweet and sharp.

Adora didn’t give herself time to think about it. She took off her shirt, and did her best to pack the concoction into the scars Catra left in her back. It was already starting to burn.

_"Shit."_

Adora gripped the edge of the table as the long claw marks at her back fizzled and burned. It felt like Catra’s claws tearing through her back all over again. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she clenched her jaw around a whine of pain. She sank to her knees, pressing her forehead against the edge of the table. Showing pain was weakness. Even now that thought pounded inside her head, kept her shock-still and silent. After a long moment the pain faded and she managed to straighten stiffly and turn her back to the mirror. She blinked in shock. Raised pink scars replaced the raw wounds. Adora reached back and ran her fingertips over the fresh skin, a little in awe. The stories from the old Horde soldiers - it was really true.

In the Horde scars were mementos of battles fought and survived. Sometimes if a victory was important enough they... helped the process along, or so the young cadets whispered among themselves. She just didn’t expect it to actually work. Adora let out a slow breath, and grabbed a towel to scrub away the mix of green gel and blood.

None of the other princesses would understand, but it was Adora - formerly of the Horde, with all that implied - not She-ra that needed it.

Adora missed Catra. She missed Catra’s sardonic humor, and that sly little grin she got when mischief was afoot, the purring warmth at her back when Adora jerked awake from a nightmare. Adora would give up the sword of She-ra in a heartbeat if it meant even one day in the light with Catra.

Adora met her own tired eyes in the mirror. Maybe that was the difference between them.

There was one other reason a member of the Horde would preserve a wound this way. Adora shrugged her shirt and jacket back on, trying to steady her shaking hands. Her chest felt like it was full of sand. There was one other reason: to mark a betrayal deep enough that it deserved a scar of its own. To swear an oath against the one who dealt the blow. Now - now she would never forget this day, even when her traitorous heart made her hope for Catra’s return. For her smile. For her touch. At least, Adora thought a little bitterly, she could carry Catra with her in some small way. Even if it was only as another weight on her shoulders.

She and Catra were shaped in the same forge, sharpened on the same stone. It was only right that the first cut be between them.


End file.
